


Teacher's Pet

by vanillafluffy



Category: Political Animals
Genre: Blow Jobs, Gay Sex, Inspired by Poetry, Literature, M/M, Poetry, Quickies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: Being married occasionally has some drawbacks--for instance when your spouse is inspired by the spirit of romance and you kind of have things to do. TJ never thought he’d see the day when accounting would take precedence over snuggling with Crispin, but today is that day.





	Teacher's Pet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vanillafluffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/gifts).



He wanders into the kitchen for a cup of coffee to sustain him while he goes through a stack of figures for the foundation, and Crispin gets up from the stool at the breakfast bar and begins to nuzzle him.

“I’m getting ready to start the unit on Walt Whitman,” he confides. “Whitman always makes me horny.”

Tj is on the verge of saying that if that’s the case, Crispin had better tuck while he’s teaching that class. Still, Crispin’s rubbing his crotch suggestively against him, and he doesn’t want to discourage him from future attempts at seductions. “What is it about Whitman that gets you going?” he asks.

“For starters, most historians believe he was gay--possibly bi, but not a lot of evidence supports that. He apparently had a dalliance with Oscar Wilde--you’ve heard of him? Afterward, Wilde said, ‘I have the kiss of Walt Whitman still on my lips’. How’s that for hot?”

“Not bad,” TJ acknowledges, finding that spot behind Crispin’s ear that he knows will get a reaction. “I hear America singing,” he breathes. Take that, Oscar Wilde! “The varied carols I hear.” He works Crispin’s tie loose and drapes it over a cabinet knob. “Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be, blithe and strong….”

Crispin has started breathing rapidly, his eyes wide as TJ begins unbuttoning his shirt. This isn’t TJ’s usual style of talking dirty, but it damn sure seems to be working!

”The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work, the boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck…” TJ has the garment unbuttoned and slides his hand over his husband’s chest, making sure to skim across his tender nipples. Oh, yes, just look at them, so nice and stiff….

“The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands, the woodcutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown…” Crispin’s cock is hard against TJ’s hand, tenting his khakis. He’s one of those guys who doesn’t look at all impressive with his clothes off--until he gets aroused--TJ himself did a double-take the first time he’d seen it standing at attention--and TJ’s not easily stirred by guys’ junk.

He begins unbuckling Crispin’s belt. “The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing, each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else…” He unhooks the waistband and unzips him…TJ wraps his hand around Crispin’s cock, letting his lips glide over the head of it, glistening with pre-cum.

Crispin is leaning back against the counter, clearly restraining himself from shoving the whole thing down TJ’s throat.

“The day what belongs to the day,” TJ murmurs, running his tongue along the shaft. He cradles his husband’s balls in his other hand, using one finger to lightly stroke that spot just behind them. Crispin whimpers. “At night, the party of young fellows,” TJ intones, punctuating the lyrics with breathy inflection. “Robust…friendly--”

It isn’t going to take much-- ”Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs--” With that, TJ opens his own mouth wide and inhales the length of him. He’s had plenty of practice at this, even when Crispin arches, burying it deep in TJ’s throat while TJ milks it out of him.

When Crispin is completely limp, TJ comes up for air.

“I don’t--how--” Crispin looks dazed, and TJ is pleased with his success. Thoughtfully, he gets his partner’s pants back on and buckled. 

He starts that cup of coffee while Crispin is catching his breath. “No need to reciprocate,” he says mildly. “I’ll take a rain check.”

“How do you even know that poem?” Crispin sighs as he settles back onto his barstool.

“We had to study it in tenth grade,” Tj reveals offhandedly. Crispin’s lust seems to have been slaked; now he can get on with the stack of paperwork that he needs to evaluate. Being a responsible adult is a real nuisance sometimes.

“You still remember it twenty years later? After nearly frying your brain on every recreational chemical known to man? That’s incredible.”

TJ chuckles and reaches for the sugar bowl. “Sure. All that stuff we had to memorize? I set it to music. I still remember that tune…and some of the others.” Crispin is still looking at him with hazel-eyed wonder. Clearly, TJ has just pushed a button he wasn’t even aware of until now. He leans over and gives his dazed husband a lingering smooch.

With a smile, he feigns tasting something delicious and purrs. “I have the kiss of Crispin Hughes still on my lips.”

 

…


End file.
